Let me tell you a story.

So I got out of the bath and was combing out my wet hair under my heat-vent thingie that, when turned on, smells like burnt toast made of burnt human hair.  It was night, so it was dark (just to clarify, in case where you live night doesn’t always include darkness…like Alaska, or a psych ward…) and I decided to turn off the vanity lights and flip on my nightlight.  The nightlight is shaped to look like a kitty dipping its paw into a large bowl of goldfish.  Ahhh, so cute, right?  But the bowl is larger than the cat, so it’s gotta be a kitten, that or it’s a vat of koi.  I don’t know if many people keep large, glass tubs of koi around curious felines, but what the hell do I know.  It was likely made in a Chinese sweatshop to the specifications of some designer based in America.  The child worker who made it probably has never even seen a cat or goldfish because he or she has never seen anything outside his or her “work pen” made out of wooden pallets and flattened Fanta cans.

Fuck, now I really hate that nightlight.

But I turned it on and combed out my damp hair under the burny-scented ceiling vent and thought, I deserve this pleasure of darkness and cleanliness and heat and I sang to myself the line from the latest Katy Perry song, “this is the part of me, that you’re never ever gonna take away from me…” because I have nothing if I don’t have my goatmilk-soap cleansed corporeal form enveloped in soft lighting and hot air.

And all of that has no bearing on the rest of this post.  But I thought I would start with it because it did lead me to think about ECro Does Wrong and think, man, I’ve really let that blog go, go like Britney Spears career.*

*Yep, I’m that into current affairs.  Some of you might be like, Britney who? and my answer to you is this: it doesn’t matter if you don’t know who that is because she  is irrelevant now, just like my blog, hence the comparison.

I don’t know why personal hygiene made me consider my inability to post on a regular basis, but it did.  Such are life’s mysteries.  Maybe it was the heat that made me think of summer and how it’s fleeting and autumn is riding in and I’m turning into a giant wussy about the cold and the dark.  Which in turn made me think of August and how I only managed one post in August.  And that post was about how I was moving all my blog posts from blogspot over to this WordPress site.  Then I started the usual beating of myself with a homemade rod of flagellation for my shirking of blog duties.  It’s not a physical rod; it’s actually composed of words, but they cut and wound all the same.  More like a Word Rod of Flagellation minus 9 defense to cheeseburgers and bedazzled lanyards.

Sure, there’s only one post for August.  But I prefer to change my perspective a smidgen and deem it special, singular, august.  I find it’s really helpful to deem it thus aloud, pronouncing it “ah…goosed” and lifting my nose in the air and casting my eyes off to the side like I do when I go to Walmart at 2 in the morning and think I’m actually better than the other weirdos buying Ensure and Otter Pops.  Even though the last time I went to a Walmart was two years ago for a bachelorette scavenger hunt that included me picking out condoms while a man with a mohawk so greasy it drooped stood at the entrance to the aisle and just STARED at me.  So I guess I do have the right to get snobbish about where I do my late-night shopping.  And I am better than that dude, who couldn’t even get his hair to stand up straight while looking at me.  I understand I’m no supermodel, but really, his mohawk went soft.  I guess I should have recommend he stare at other women buying rose gold at the jewelry counter or trying on Miss Tina sportswear separates.

Wow, the way this post is rambling and swerving you might think I’m on horse tranquilizers and Pixie Sticks.  But no.  I’m just on me.  And what I can promise is that I will be better at posting on this here site.  Because what I have to say is clearly very, very important.  So much so that I needed to write “very” twice.  And tell you about nightlights.

I swear I’ll stop now.